


come up for air

by DJBunn3



Series: Voltron Bingo [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Drowning, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJBunn3/pseuds/DJBunn3
Summary: Keith counts the seconds as he sinks to the bottom of the pool, still focusing on the sky above him. His eyes burn from the chlorine, and his lungs ache desperately for air. On instinct, he finds himself start to make his way to the top, and has to focus hard to get himself to stop moving. He doesn’t want air, no matter how much he might need it. Sooner or later, he’s going to drown properly, so he might as well get it over with.(Keith goes to drown himself at the local pool.)





	come up for air

It’s eleven o’clock at night, and Keith really doesn’t have anything to live for anymore.

He’s been stuck in a pit of self pity and deprecation for the past few hours, unable to do anything but think about what he’s done wrong, how he messed up, how he really doesn’t know what else to do. He’s so  _ tired,  _ of everything, but mostly of himself. He doesn’t want to live like this anymore.

Usually his thoughts are manageable, but today they’re completely out of control. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s a failure, how he’s let everyone down, how he doesn’t deserve everything that’s been given to him. It’s totally encompassing his mind, like a dark, scratchy blanket of thoughts he can’t quite find his way out from under.

He’s behind the wheel, driving down streets he barely recognizes with reckless abandon. His head is filled with too many thoughts, threatening to spill out in the form of tears. In the back of his mind, he knows where he’s going, but he doesn’t really register it until he’s almost there.

Keith’s never really liked swimming; in fact, he’d never even gotten past Polar Bear swim level at the pools in his neighborhoods growing up, since he’d moved around so much. But he finds himself driving up to the empty lot anyway, despite the fact that it’s been closed for hours.

He stops the car a block away from the pool and climbs out, barely remembering to make sure it’s locked before he starts stumbling towards the entrance. The beginnings of a plan have started manifesting in his mind, and it seems like the closer he gets to the pool, the more solid his idea becomes.

He stops outside of the wire fence guarding the pool area, staring up at it blankly. Somehow he hadn’t realized that he’d have no way of getting through, especially since the main entrance is locked up for the night. His mind’s too filled with noise and static to think thoroughly about the logistics of his idea, as it’s been for the past few hours. He’s just starting to turn back to the car when he sees that the gate is open ever so slightly, the lock hanging limply from the fence.

Luck is on his side tonight.

As quietly as he can, he slides the gate open further and steps inside, scanning the area carefully before continuing. Despite the gate being unlocked, he can’t seem to see anyone around, and there aren’t any lights on in the main building, either. It still feels risky, trespassing here, but it won’t matter in a number of minutes. Nothing will.

Briefly, he toys with the idea of taking his shirt off, but figures it won’t matter in the end. He might as well keep his clothes on to give the pool staff a bit of a break. Finding a clothed dead body has to be at least a  _ little _ better than finding a naked dead body.

His head is getting fuzzy again, filling with words and pictures and noise.  _ Too much thinking, _ he decides doing his best to shut his mind off as he toes off his shoes and socks and steps towards the pool. He pauses at the edge, dipping his foot into the water to test it as if he’s just about to go for a swim like a normal person. It feels cold and sharp, just the opposite of everything else, which seems blurry and chaotic.

He pauses for a moment, his subconscious warning him that this is a stupid and selfish idea, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to fail anymore, he doesn’t want to let people down, he doesn’t want to be a disappointment. He doesn’t want to  _ live _ .

And this is the way to end it all.

Without any further hesitation, he takes a step off of the tile lining and into the deep end of the pool. He hears a splash, feels the cold shock of the pool water as it engulfs him all at once, turns his head upwards to watch the sky disappear into rippling blackness as he sinks under the water. He can hear his heart beating in his ears, amplified against the pool’s walls. It’s almost peaceful, the finality of it all, especially since there’s no one around to witness his end.

He counts the seconds as he sinks to the bottom of the pool, still focusing on the sky above him. His eyes burn from the chlorine, and his lungs ache desperately for air. On instinct, he finds himself start to make his way to the top, and has to focus hard to get himself to stop moving. He doesn’t want air, no matter how much he might need it. Sooner or later, he’s going to drown properly, so he might as well get it over with.

A sense of panic sets in, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. He shouldn’t be panicking--he brought this on himself. Not just by jumping, but by everything that came before, too. He  _ deserves _ this; for being a failure, for not being good enough, for disappointing everyone. He can’t-- _ won’t _ \--change his mind now.

His vision is starting to blur, black and blue spots appearing at the edges of his periphery. He gives up on holding his breath, only partly voluntarily, letting out a lungful of air and watching as the bubbles rise to the top of the water. His body reacts without him, trying to pull in a breath of air and getting a mouthful of water instead. It fucking  _ burns, _ and he splutters and coughs, only managing to swallow more water as he does. He feels himself fading, and finally lets himself hit the bottom of the pool, hands closing around his throat like he can help himself out and choke himself to death.

It feels like minutes have passed, but he’s finally getting what he wants. He can leave the world, make it a better place by offing himself early, before he screws it up for everyone else. It’s the best option for everyone, right?

He’s just barely hanging onto consciousness, teetering on the edge of blacking out, when he senses a disturbance in the water. He opens one eye and sees a blurry figure swimming towards him alarmingly fast, until he finally reaches him. A pair of strong arms wraps around Keith’s chest, causing him to cough and inhale more water, and then they’re breaking the surface all of a sudden and he’s spitting out pool water and hacking his lungs out, struggling to take deep breaths and failing miserably.

“Relax,” a strong voice commands him as the stranger hauls him towards the shallow end. “Take it easy. In and out, okay?”

“Let me go!” Keith wheezes, ignoring his savior’s instructions. “What are you doing?” He’d almost been there, he’d almost done it! If it weren’t for this noble stranger, he’d be in his way to a better place already, but instead he’s cold and wet and in pain.

The stranger doesn’t answer his question. He pulls Keith over his back and continues towards dry land at a quick pace. Keith does his best not to cough water all over his already-wet shirt, but his lungs and throat seem to have a mind of their own. He spits out a mouthful of chlorine water, taking small breaths and wincing at the pain in his chest. Not only do his lungs hurt, but his heart too, at the thought that he’s failed yet again.

He doesn’t protest as the stranger carries him out of the water and lays him down on dry ground. The rough cement scratches at Keith’s hands as he tries to stand up, but the stranger pushes him back down into a sitting position.

“You need to warm up,” he says, concerned, then darts over to a bag a few feet from the entrance. He produces two towels, wrapping one around his shoulders and bringing the other one over to Keith, who does the same.

“You-” Keith starts, then cuts himself off uncertainty. What can he say? He doesn’t want to thank the stranger, but he can’t exactly blame him, either. After all, he doesn’t know how much of a fuck-up Keith is. If he did, he probably wouldn’t have jumped into the pool in the first place.

“You didn’t have to save me,” he says at last, crossing his arms on top of his knees and resting his head on them. There’s a small pause before the stranger speaks.

“I’m a lifeguard,” he replies gently. “It’s my job to rescue people.”

“But I…” Keith tries, then trails off uncertainty.  _ I didn’t want you to, _ he thinks, closing his eyes and sighing. His throat still hurts like hell.

The stranger sighs as well, then goes to sit down in front of him. “I don’t know what your story is,” he says quietly. “I don’t even know your name. All I know is that it’s my job to save people. Little kids who go too far into the deep end, or adults that think they’re better swimmers than they are, or college kids that break in in the middle of the night for… a bet?”

The last part is said hopefully, but uncertainty. Keith hesitates, then shakes his head slowly, ashamed at being found out.

The stranger sighs again. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he says, reaching for the bag by his leg. Keith’s eyes widen as he pulls out a phone and starts typing something out.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” he blurts, panicked. Lance’s hands come up placatingly, his phone screen too bright against the darkness of the night.

“I won’t,” he says softly, lowering his hands. “I’m just telling my roommate I’ll be back a little later than I thought. I get the feeling you could use someone to talk to.”

Keith lowers his head back onto his arms, looking to the side guiltily as drops of water fall from his hair to his face. “I’m fine,” he says, although it sounds forced even to his ears.

“Come on, man, don’t do that,” the stranger says sadly. “You almost drowned yourself. Clearly you’re not fine.”

Keith blinks, startled. He hadn’t heard anyone actually voice his plan until now, and it’s slightly jarring.

“You’re really telling me you’ve got nothing to talk about?” the stranger asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically. Keith shrugs, drawing his legs closer to his chest.

“I don’t even know you,” he says, avoiding the question.

“Well, we can fix that easy.” The stranger extends a hand towards Keith, smiling gently. “I’m Lance, and I work here. What about you?”

Keith reaches out and shakes Lance’s hand hesitantly. The gesture seems oddly formal between two people who just climbed out of a pool in the middle of the night together. “I’m Keith,” he says, wondering if he should really be giving out his name to random lifeguards he barely knows.

“Well, Keith,” Lance says, “want to tell me what’s going on? What made you come here?”

“What made  _ you _ come here?” Keith retorts, drawing his hand back. As far as he knows, there isn’t supposed to be any security at the pool after hours.

“Oh, it’s a funny story,” Lance laughs, shaking his head. “I forgot my bag here after my shift, but I didn’t think it had anything important in it until I realized I couldn’t find my phone a couple of hours later. I can be pretty dumb sometimes, you know?”

He says it so lightly, like leaving his phone unguarded at the pool doesn’t matter in the slightest. Like his mistakes don’t matter. If Keith had forgotten his bag at school, he’d be beating himself up over it for the next week. He’d never be able to laugh at his mistakes like that.

The thought brings tears to his eyes, which he tries in vain to blink away. One of them rolls down his cheek and onto his arm, followed by another, and another, and soon he’s full-on crying, the towel dropping from his back. Lance looks surprised, then worried, like he doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder awkwardly. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” Keith sniffs, wiping at his eyes angrily. “Me.  _ I’m  _ wrong.”

“What? That’s not true,” Lance says, alarmed. “Nobody’s  _ wrong _ . Just like nobody’s  _ right _ . Everyone just  _ is _ .”

“Not me,” Keith replies, shaking his head and blinking quickly, hating the way his voice wavers and breaks. “I’m a failure. Worthless. I can’t- I can’t do anything  _ right, _ I can’t do  _ anything _ … I don’t even deserve to be alive!”

Lance says nothing, rubbing his hand in small circles on Keith’s shoulder. He seems to be waiting for Keith to elaborate, and after a few seconds, he breaks.

“I failed another test,” he admits, rubbing a hand under his nose. “The second one this week, and in the same class, too.”

“That… sucks,” Lance says, perching his chin on his knee. “But it’s not worth killing yourself over, dude.”

“I know,” Keith sighs. “I  _ know _ that. I just- I can’t  _ deal  _ with stuff like that. Every time I do something wrong, I can’t stop thinking about it, and it- it sticks in my head, and I can’t get it out! It just wraps around my brain for hours and hours, and there’s nothing I can do but feel sorry for myself or- or beat myself up over it until I wear myself out. Every little thing I do wrong, it all just piles up until I find a way to- to…”

He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands at the back of his head. How does he explain it without sounding stupid and overdramatic? Is it even possible?

“To get out of your head?” Lance suggests, ducking so he can make eye contact. Keith nods, chewing on his lip agitatedly. It feels strange to talk about everything he’s been bottling up for god knows how long, but it’s not a bad feeling. Lance is easy to talk to, and for some reason Keith feels like he can really trust him. Maybe his brain is waterlogged from the pool, and that’s why he’s letting his guard down for once.

“I’m doing really bad in that class,” he says with a sniff. “The one with the tests. And it’s only gonna get harder from here.”

“But you can always ask for help,” Lance reminds him. “Or you could get a tutor. And if worst comes to worst, you could always take the class again next year, right?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says, shrinking in on himself. “Thinking about it stresses me out. I’d rather die.”

Lance looks saddened by the statement, so much so that Keith almost regrets saying it. But it’s the truth, and that’s a fact he really can’t change.

“I’m failing my classes,” he says miserably, closing his eyes and resting his head in his arms. “I don’t even know what I want to major in, or what I want to do for a living. I’m not particularly good at anything, and I don’t really have anyone worth staying alive for. I never do anything that makes me happy anymore, because I never have enough energy to do it, and I spend most of my free time sleeping or working on homework for courses I don’t even care about. What reason would I possibly have to keep living?”

There’s a long pause while Lance processes his words, neither of them daring to say a thing. Keith keeps his eyes closed, afraid Lance might be gone when he opens them. After all, who’d want to stay anywhere near a waste of space like him? Even he’d abandon himself if he could.

“Have you ever seen a baby sloth take a bath?” Lance asks at last. Keith’s opens his eyes and frowns in confusion.  _ What in the world? _

“Um, no,” he says, raising his head. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s the cutest thing. Here!”

Lance takes his phone from on top of his bag and starts searching, then turns the screen so they can both watch. The baby sloths appear on the screen, looking soft and fuzzy as they climb all over everything. They seem so small when they’re wet, and once they’re clean and dry they puff up all over again. It’s kind of adorable, although it seems slightly different in tone than their conversation.

Lance switches his phone off when the video ends, leaving them back in the darkness of the pool again.

“It’s a cute video,” Keith says as his eyes adjust, still confused.

“Isn’t it?” Lance agrees, smiling happily. “And you know, if you killed yourself tonight, you’d never have gotten to watch it.”

Keith’s frown deepens. “I guess you’re right,” he admits slowly, warily.

“See, Keith, there are  _ thousands _ of things like that video,” Lance says, gentler. “ _ Thousands _ of little things worth living for  _ every day. _ It doesn’t matter that they’re not very big or important. They’re worth staying alive for, too.”

Keith stays quiet, unsure of what to say. He knows, logically, that Lance has a point. He’s heard those  _ suicide is never the answer _ speeches time after time, although they were never directed at him. But it still feels strange, to admit that the only reasons he has to stay alive are videos of sloths taking tea baths and eating hibiscus flowers.

“I know it’s kind of weird to think about,” Lance says, seemingly reading Keith’s mind. “But it’s okay to live for little things for the time being until you find something bigger. The point is that you  _ have _ something to live for.”

Lance’s hand is back on Keith’s shoulder, warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to agree with me. Just think about it, okay?”

“… Okay,” Keith agrees, finding that he means it. Truth be told, he does feel much better than he had half an hour ago (although he had been about to kill himself, so that’s not saying much). Maybe Lance is right. Maybe he  _ does _ have something to live for, after all.

“Good,” Lance says, breaking out into a slow grin. “I’m glad.”

The two of them sit there quietly, listening to the sound of the water splashing gently against the pool. “Thank you,” Keith blurts after a minute. “For saving me, and for… everything else.”

“Of course, dude,” Lance says automatically. “I’m just glad I left my bag here. I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if I didn’t.”

Keith shakes his head, unwilling to admit that he doesn’t want to think about it either. Instead he picks up the discarded towel from the ground and stands, glancing towards the gate where he’d come in from. It’s late, and he’s cold, and he still has class tomorrow.

“I should go,” he says, folding the towel over his arm and handing it back to Lance, who stands as well. “Thank you again, Lance. Really.”

“Oh, wait!” Lance exclaims, reaching down to grab something from his swim bag. “Let me give you my number. You don’t have to use it, but if you ever need to talk again… I’ll always be there.”

He takes Keith’s hand and writes a number on his palm, adding a cartoon winking face for good measure. “There,” he says, smiling again. “Text me anytime, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith replies, smiling back hesitantly. Lance pats him on the shoulder yet again, then slings his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll walk you out. I’ve gotta lock up, anyway.”

The two of them head towards the gate side by side. Keith looks back at the pool, the drying tracks of water from when Lance dragged him out, and decides that he’s happy that he hadn’t died. His failed test doesn’t matter now that Lance has helped put things into perspective. His problems, which had seemed so hugely crushing merely half an hour ago, all seem smaller, more manageable now that they’ve talked. He’s still got a small mountain of problems to deal with, from his failed test to his mental health and everything in between, but somehow he’s not as stressed and upset about it as he was before. And it’s all thanks to Lance.

Yes, he thinks, glancing down at the number on his palm and smiling. Luck really is on his side tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> [My Tumblr](https://djbunn3.tumblr.com/)  
> also please don't drown yourselves thanks ily


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